


snow and stars intertwine

by ly_writes



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Angst with a Happy Ending, Betaed, Cold, Cold Weather, Common Cold, Cussing, Fainting, Fever, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Headaches & Migraines, Hospitals, Hurt/Comfort, Hypothermia, IRL Fic, Real Life, Serious Injuries, Sick Character, Sick TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Sickfic, Skiing, Snowboarding, TommyInnit-centric (Video Blogging RPF), figured we’d give mother and fatherinnit a break lol make tommy an actual Big Man, hopefully I tagged everything :P, how does that not auto fill I can’t fucking filter on it dammit, lol he get lost in the snow, no gore or anything it’s just not exactly trivial, that’s a tag ????
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-18
Updated: 2021-03-21
Packaged: 2021-03-26 23:26:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30113640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ly_writes/pseuds/ly_writes
Summary: Fuck skiing, fuck snow, fuck headaches, fuck his fever, fuck it all. Tommy was tired and cold and sick and maybe he’d just stay here and wait for someone to find him. Looking up at the darkening sky, he smiled. The stars were quite pretty out here, weren’t they? Unfortunately, he didn’t get to look at them long. The gods didn’t like him enough for that.===Sleepy bois go skiing, Tommy goes to bed with wet hair, gets sick, and decides that he can deal with it on his own. Spoiler alert, he can’t.
Relationships: Technoblade & TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), TommyInnit & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Wilbur Soot & Technoblade & TommyInnit & Phil Watson, Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit, Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit & Phil Watson
Comments: 51
Kudos: 351





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was beta’d by my friend cozy, or uncomfortablesock here on the Archive !!! Very cool, I love them <3
> 
> Mostly based off that time I was skiing and fucking smacked my head lmao- I was fine, don’t worry. Tommy isn’t though :)
> 
> Yeah, I’m back on my hurt comfort shit. I’m never completely off it, to be honest. There are a few works brewing in this lil noggin, and you guys’ll hopefully see some longer works soon!
> 
> Also, ok look it’s been years since I first learned how to ski, so I’m shit at explaining everything lol- please don’t take anything in here as a guide or something. None of it’s inaccurate, per se, but it’s probably not how beginners are taught ? I don’t know bsjsjsjjs
> 
> Like always, I’m not trying to represent any of the cc’s in here! This is just my interpretation of the personas they present and I’m not crossing any borders that I know of. If anyone states that they’re uncomfortable with something that happens to be in here, I’ll take it down.
> 
> That said, enjoy! It won’t last long :)

Tommy sighed, rolling his neck back and forth, a frankly unsettling number of pops protesting his poor posture. Standing up, he stretched his aching back and left the room he’d been sitting in for far too long.

Once he was pulled away from his screens, he realized just how thirsty he was, his mouth dry and his throat raspy. Heading to his sporadically stocked fridge for a Gatorade, he lamented the loneliness that was his normal life. The summer after turning nineteen, he’d moved out alone and become a full-time YouTuber and streamer, which he was doing quite well in. The main DreamSMP plotline had ended a few months before his birthday, but the server was still there as a normal place for everyone to hang out in and stream on and it looked much more pleasing with everyone allowed to build and terraform to their heart’s content. Tommy still refused to fill in his creeper holes— the job was always eventually done for him by an exasperated Puffy or Foolish. The bonds between the members had grown stronger with time, contrary to what many of the fans feared, as every creator tried their best to keep in contact and collaborate for various videos and events.

Still, no amount of video calling or chatting through Discord could substitute the casual presence of another human, playfully nudging his shoulder or simply sitting with him in silence. It was at times like these that he wished he could’ve moved in with Tubbo, who’d decided to move to America for _aMeRiCaN uNiVerSiTy,_ he mocked in his head, and was currently living with Ranboo. He remembered his sixteen-year old self only half-jokingly acting the part of a jealous friend on Twitter, and laughed to himself. They’d long since left that feud behind, and he was looking forward to meeting Ranboo in person again, whenever that was. “Still not over how fucking tall he is, though,” he muttered as he pulled a Gatorade from the fridge door.

Chugging half the bottle in one go and bringing the drink back up to his bedroom, Tommy checked his Discord through his phone. He’d been editing for several hours straight and he was sure there were a few messages waiting for him. The first thing that caught his eye was a series of messages from the SBI group chat. Clicking in, he scanned the 200 odd messages that had been sent in his absence.

His eyes widened as he realized what was going on. Dropping his drink on the desk, he frantically typed out a string of messages.

**_the Biggest ManT_ ** _M:_

 _YOU’RE COMIBG TO VISIR @_ **_it was in SELF DEFENSE_ ** _???_

_WAIT WHEN_

_WJAT’S ALL THIS ABOUY SMOWBOARDIBG_

**_mistew minekwaf_ ** _:_

_Woah, chill_

_Techno’s coming to visit in a few weeks, late January I think?_

**_ggghostbur_ ** _:_

_And Phil wanted to take him skiing, but he said that he knew how to snowboard, so we were talking about that_

_You free Jan 12-31? We were thinking of making it a trip with all four of us and Kristen_

Tommy made a face at that. Snowboarding? Skiing? He might’ve grown into his lanky form since college, but being 6’3” didn’t naturally come with a whole lot of grace or coordination. He made a noise of dismissal— it couldn’t be that hard, could it?

===

It was indeed, that hard. Harder, eve. Tommy was precariously perched at the steep section of the easiest slope Phil could find, if it could even be called one. It was basically a glorified plateau. His skis were pushed into a point, a “pizza” position, as Phil had called it, and was supposed to help him slow down, but Tommy could already feel his legs starting to split apart. 

He let out a very manly whimper of fear as Phil easily slid into a stop just in front of him, skis facing across the slope in a smooth hockey stop. “Tommy, literally just point your skis to the left. You’ll turn, slow down, and then you just turn back to the right. In an S shape, basically.”

“Fuck off, Phil, I’m doing fine,” Tommy said, very convincingly. Phil turned back around, looking unimpressed. _Fuck you, Phil, I am doing perfectly fine._

Wilbur, who had picked up the sport much faster than Tommy, despite being two inches taller and possessing the same inexperience, was waiting at the bottom of the slope, looking bored out of his mind. Techno and Kristen, the “Amazing American Snowboarding Duo” as they’d dubbed themselves, had pranced off to the rated blue slopes further up the mountain— damn them and their expertise.

He said as much to Phil, who just laughed at him. “Blues aren’t even that hard, mate! Techno should be grateful that Kristen isn’t trying to drag him to a black diamond— those are fucking difficult, and moguls are hell for inexperienced snowboarders.”

“Shut up, dickhead. I know green is beginner shit and there’s no need to rub it in.” 

Mildly desperate to escape discussion of his shortcomings, Tommy leaned forward, slowly sliding down the slope at the pace of a snail. “Wait, wait, Phil, Phil, Phil,” he shrieked, immediately regretting every life decision he’d ever made as he began to head for the tree line.

“Hey, it’s ok,” the man reassured as he braked in front of Tommy, cutting him off. “You got this, just shift your weight to your left foot a little, turn the point of your skis to the right, and follow me.”

Turning around, Phil slowly cut his way across the snow, Tommy shakily following the tracks he left behind.

“Jesus fucking Christ, you guys are finally done,” Wilbur groaned, having been waiting for them at the bottom for a solid ten minutes.

“Fuck you, dickhead!” Tommy growled, sticking his tongue out at his friend.

“Calm down, boys. Wilbur, I think you’re ready to join Tech and Kristen for some of the longer green slopes and easy blues. They’re over there by that chairlift. See them?” Phil pointed to where the two snowboarders in question had just finished their trail.

“Oh, thank fuck. Er, good luck, Toms! Don’t break anything!” Wilbur shouted, pushing himself over to the lift.

Phil sighed, turning back to Tommy, who was staring apprehensively at the hill behind them, despite having just made his way down perfectly fine. “Let’s try that again, shall we?”

===

“Oh, hey guys. Did Tommy finally manage to get down the big, bad, no-good green slope on his own?” Techno greeted them from his seat in the lodge, dipping his spoon back into a bowl of chili.

Tommy threw himself down in the chair across him, ripping his helmet off with an impressive scowl plastered on his face. “I did, actually, so you can eat shit, Blade,” he snarked, stealing a mouthful of chili.

Phil sat down next to Kristen, reaching for the delicious-looking sandwiches Kristen had made and brought from the resort they were staying in. “He’s improved a lot, especially since he’s never done anything like this before. I think we can take him down that blue trail by chairlift three at the end of the day. It’s the easiest one, you guys said?”

Wilbur nodded, swallowing a bite of his own sandwich. “Yeah, if we take it slow, I think Tommy’ll be fine.”

Tommy glanced wide-eyed between the occupants at the table. “What? A blue already?” His face twisted into a skeptical frown. “I don’t know if I’m ready for that.”

Kristen patted his shoulder. “It’s a weekday when most families are in school, so the run’s pretty much empty. We got really lucky with the snow, too- it’s powdery enough that you won’t skid like on icy days, but you shouldn’t get stuck in any drifts.”

Tommy gulped. He’d be alright— he was the biggest man! TommyInnit! He wouldn’t be defeated by a simple snowy slope.

===

“I fucking hate it here,” Tommy mumbled into the snow, sprawled facedown on the freezing powder.

“You’re doing fine, mate,” Phil stifled a laugh, knowing that Tommy would absolutely take offense to it. “We’re already halfway down and this is only your second fall on it.”

“I’m in pain, Philza Minecraft,” he whined, turning onto his back and realigning his skis so that he wouldn’t start sliding when he stood up.

“Good, you remembered the parallel thing,” the older man commented, leaning forward and bracing himself on his poles.

“Of course I fucking remember it! The first time I fell, I ended up sliding down the slope head first because I couldn’t get my skis underneath me— or did you forget?” Tommy grumbled, swiping at the snow covering the ruffled bits of hair poking out from under his helmet, muttering under his breath as he wiped the white from his coat.

“SUCK IT LOSERS TECHNOBLADE NEVer diessssss-“ Techno yelled, voice fading as he whizzed past, pretty much just straight-lining down the slope. 

“FUCK YOU!” Tommy yelled after the pink ponytail whipping through the wind, knowing full well that Techno was out of earshot and that the wind would drown out any sound that did manage to reach him.

“Alrighty, that’s enough. You ready?” Phil asked, sliding down the slope slightly.

“Let’s just go,” Tommy sighed, shakily making another turn.

He managed to reach the end of the slope unscathed, minus the scrape on the inside of his right knee, but he was satisfied with his positively astronomical achievements. Exhausted from the physically demanding sport, he bundled his skis and poles together and wordlessly followed Philza to their rental car, where he shed his gear to be stowed in the trunk, clambered into the backseat, and passed out near-instantly.

===

“Wake up. Tommy, wake up, we’re at the resort.”

Dragged out of sleep’s sexy, sexy clutches, Tommy blearily opened his eyes, feeling as if sand bags were tied to his eyelashes. “The f’ck’s ‘appenin’?” He mumbled, faintly registering a headache poking at his temples.

A mop of brown hair and violently red beanie swam into his field of vision, revealing Wilbur to be the one shaking him awake. “Outta the car, bud, we’re at the resort. Just stay awake for a bit more and then you can shower and sleep,” he assured, leaning back out of the vehicle.

Tommy nodded wordlessly, shrinking further into his thick and cozy hoodie as he stepped out of the car and got hit by a vicious blast of wind. Grasping the handle of his suitcase with his sweater paw, he murmured a thank you to Techno, who was lifting everyone’s luggage out of the van. Wilbur held onto his elbow as they crossed the road in front of the resort, Kristen on his other side and Techno following behind them.

The longer he stayed outside in the relentless wind and biting cold, the more Tommy realized just how bad his head hurt. All the sweat and snow had made his hair damp, and now his head was aching with a vengeance. He could feel it pulsing in time with his heartbeat and he pushed back a pained whine, trudging forwards.

The tense set of Tommy’s shoulders relaxed minutely as he stepped through the glass doors and was hit by a warm wave of air. “Thank you, have a nice day,” Phil said to the employee at the front desk, coming back with four key cards. “Hey, we got two connected rooms. Kristen and I can take the king size and the three of you can decide who takes the pullout and the twin beds in the other room. Sounds good?”

Wilbur was the only one awake enough to respond verbally, Techno simply nodding through a yawn and Tommy dozing off as he leaned on his suitcase. Sighing, Kristen gently shuffled them towards the elevators, pressing the buttons and helping guide the aptly-named sleepy boys to their rooms as Phil wrestled with the luggage carts. Clumsily swiping his card across the lock, Wilbur held the door open as everyone filed into the main room and kitchen.

Techno made a beeline for the shower, while Wilbur dragged his bag to the smaller bedroom to put his things away and Phil began to help Kristen unpack the food they’d brought. Tommy, exhausted, kicked his sneakers off and clambered onto the couch, where he fell asleep yet again.

His digital watch informed him that he’d only been there for about twenty minutes when Techno poked him awake and motioned for him to take the now-vacant bathroom.

Stumbling to his feet, Tommy grasped the back of the couch as his vision blurred, darkened, and swam back into focus. His head was throbbing even harder, and he almost cried with how unbearable it was. He’d always hated headaches— the inescapably irritating ache, with no way to relieve the pain except through medicine and sleeping. The painful heat in his forehead only served to highlight just how cold he was, shaking in his no-longer-warm sweater.

“You ok?” Techno asked, concern pulling at his features.

“Jus’, mmmm, jus’ stood up a lil fast,” Tommy mumbled, rubbing his eyes and yawning. “Pro’lly, the fuckin’, uh, blood pressure n’ shit.”

“Do you need your meds? Maybe you should sit back d-“ Techno stepped towards him, arms lifted to catch him.

“‘M fine,” Tommy got out, the words barely audible in his attempt to stop his skull from fucking vibrating— that was what it had to be doing at this point, right? _Fuck, make it stop, please_ , he moaned internally

Wavering unsteadily, he cautiously let go of the couch and shot a weak smile at Techno, who seemed to drop the matter with more than a little hesitation, sighing and turning towards his bags. Looking away and gritting his teeth, Tommy stumbled over to his room to get his pajamas, trying but failing to look awake or stable. Thankfully, no one was around to watch him newborn-deer his way across the room as his head pulsed and spun with a miserable ferocity. “Fuck,” he swore under his breath, gripping the doorframe with whitening fingers. Squeezing his eyes shut, he swiped up a random pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt, just wanting to sit the fuck back down.

He finally stepped into the bathroom, and collapsing onto the toilet, he shut the door with shaking fingers. Hidden from the rest of the group, tears began to fall at an alarming rate. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” He hissed, uselessly pressing the heels of his hands to his temples, knees tucked up against his chest in a fruitless attempt to quell the white hot pain swelling in his stomach. He remained there for several agonizing minutes, shaking like willow in a windstorm, (whether it was from cold or pain he didn’t know), but he managed to turn the shower on, knowing that the hot water would make his shivering better and hopefully help him relax a little.

Fortunately, it did lessen the pain into something resembling bearable, and he stepped out of the hot and humid bathroom still feeling cold but much improved. “Jesus Christ, Tommy, were you planning on making this into a sauna? How are you not boiled alive?” Wilbur laughed as he stepped in to take his shower.

Huh. Now that Wilbur had mentioned it, his skin was looking rather red. Tommy did like hot showers, but he honestly looked a bit like a lobster. How was he still cold if the shower water had been even hotter than usual? Dismissing the oddity as a result of the bitterly cold weather outside, he shrugged and took a seat at the table where Kristen and Phil were setting out the burgers they’d bought on the way back.

A half hour later, Tommy had only managed to force down a few bites of burger and a handful of fries, headache beginning to worsen again. “You feelin’ alright, Tommy?” Phil asked, looking concerned. “I’ve seen you eat twice as much in half the time.”

Tommy mustered a faint smile. “Just tired, big man.”

“Well, we’re heading back up the slopes tomorrow, and you’ll need your energy for that. Do you wanna sleep a bit and finish the rest later?” Phil suggested.

“No... I’m fine,” Tommy protested, yawning.

“You look like you’re actually about to pass out,” Techno pointed out.

“Fuck off, Technoblade, I will beat you up.”

“You’re literally falling asleep as we speak, just go nap,” Techno said, the faintest hint of amusement coloring his tone.

“I am napping because I want to, not ‘cause you told me to,” Tommy said, stubbornly refusing to admit defeat even as he pushed in his chair and walked to the bedroom, where he and Wilbur were apparently going to stay.

He heard Wilbur laugh behind him, but he couldn’t bring himself to care as he slid in between the sheets and curled up. The day had sapped his energy, and his headache began to fade away with his vision as his body gratefully snatched the chance to give him a break.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As SBI head out for another day on the slopes, it looks like everything’s going to be fine! But unfortunately, the gods of this world are not a favorable type.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for injury! It’s not the most graphic, but if anyone’s had bad experiences with cold-related sickness/injuries, proceed carefully !
> 
> I know I said updates within two days, but school has been hitting pretty hard and my executive dysfunction is not helping in the slightest -_- I unfortunately cannot promise faster updates, but hopefully I’ll be able to post during the weekday at some point? Aiming for Wednesday, I think.
> 
> *this also probably not accurate but, uhh, I did some research?*

“Tommy! Tommy, c’mon, we gotta get breakfast before they close the cafe!” A voice poked and prodded Tommy out of blissful peace.

“The fuck y’want,” he grumbled, shoving his head under a pillow.

”If you do not get up in five minutes, I  _ will _ sit on you.”

His reluctant mind had already been kicked into starting up, and it was then that he recognized the person speaking as Wilbur. Still sluggish, it took him a second before he comprehended the words. “You’re gonna- hOLD ON, NO!”

Bolting upright, he shoved his friend’s shoulder as he teasingly hovered over him, ready to squash him underneath almost six and a half feet of lanky British man. “Fuck off! I’m up!”

Laughing, Wilbur left the room. “Be ready in fifteen! We gotta get down there by nine thirty!”

_ Bitch _ , he cursed. As he sat up, scrubbing a hand through his hair, he realized just how clammy and musty he was feeling. That sticky feeling of gross off-ness that usually accompanied, he realized with growing dread, being sick. “ _ Fuck _ ,” he moaned, dropping his face into his hands. That was what the headache yesterday had been about. He didn’t feel nauseous or anything, so it was probably just a cold. He really didn’t want to make anyone else miss out on the snow, though, so he figured he could just power through it. 

By the time, he met Wilbur at the elevators, he was feeling somewhat better, but his appetite had yet to make a reappearance. The two of them exited on the ground floor, meeting the other three in the cafeteria, where Phil had just arrived with a plate of freshly made waffles that would’ve piqued his interest and stomach just yesterday morning but now looked as unappealing as a dead mouse. “There you are! Thought you guys died up there,” he joked. 

“Had to wait for this lump to actually get out of bed,” Wilbur joke-scoffed, grabbing Techno’s unopened yogurt from where it was sitting in front of him. Snagging a spoon from the organizer to his left, he dug in.

“You suck ass, Will,” Techno sighed, seemingly too tired to take the bait, simply finishing off the last of his eggs.

Tommy grabbed a plastic pre-packaged bowl of cereal from the counter, a carton of milk, and another spoon, sitting down by Kristen. The milk tasted of nothing and the cereal had the consistency and flavor of year-old cardboard left in the rain, but he knew he wasn’t going to last the whole day if he didn’t eat at all. Careful not to take anything he wasn’t actually going to eat in a bargain to avoid alerting Phil’s dad radar, he finished breakfast without alerting anyone to what was probably a fever, going off how cold he was in his jacket while everyone sat comfortably in t-shirts.

Everyone pulled on their snow pants in the hotel room, saving the heavy winter jackets for once they got to the parking lots by the ski village. Tommy was grateful for the warmth the pants afforded him, but his shivering came back with a vengeance the moment they stepped outside. “Cold already, Toms?” Wilbur teased.

“Eat shit, Will, it’s fucking windy out here,” he huffed, tucking his chin into his jacket collar in a manner reminiscent of a turtle.

The car trip to the slopes was short, and all too soon Tommy had to brave the sharp chill of the mountain weather once again. “Here’re your skis, mate,” Phil said, passing them over before handing Kristen her snowboard.

Why were the skis so much heavier? They’d felt fine yesterday, but now it was like Tommy was trying to lift his desk. Doable, but really, really, hard. Holding his breath and gritting his teeth, he heaved them up onto his shoulder.

“Need help?” Techno popped up beside him.

“I’m good— thanks, though.” He grunted. He was already slowing down everyone else with his inexperience, so there was no way in hell he was going to make someone else sit in the lodge with him, which would probably happen if he was to admit he was sick.

“If you say so...”

It was a short hike to the gondola, or at least it would’ve been short if Tommy wasn’t fucking sick, dammit. It was just a tiny cold! He was  _ fineeeeee _ , he attempted to convince himself even as he squeezed his eyes shut against the lightheaded tilting of the floor. Plopping down on the bench inside the gondola, he sighed.  _ Just push through it, you’re a big man, Tommy. _

Through some miracle or divine intervention, he made it through the morning without passing out or falling off the lift, and several miserable hours later, they were at the top of the longest blue trail they could find. Well, the longest one that Tommy wasn't guaranteed to wipe out on, taking them all the way down to the parking lot. There were only a few people left this high on the mountain; it was almost four o’clock and it was getting colder, darker, and riskier.

If he’d been a little less stubborn, Tommy might’ve just waited for them at the bottom and thus been totally fine, but no. He was going to fucking own this slope and make it his bitch if it was the last thing he did. “Alright, you and Techno first,” Phil said to Kristen, ushering the two snowboarders down first.

Tommy watched them speed down, breath catching in his throat as Techno flew off the edge of a ramp he’d spotted at the side of the trail, jumping almost two full feet in the air. “YEAH, LET’S GOOOOO—“ he heard the man whoop before he slid out of earshot.

“You got this, Wilbur?” Phil asked.

“I’m fine! If I do have trouble, I’ll just wait for you and Tommy,” he reasoned.

“Alrighty then, off you go.”

Now, it was just Phil and Tommy. He swallowed, anxiety closing his throat and nerves bubbling in his gut. “I’ll follow you, big man.”

“If you’re sure,” Phil hesitantly moved forward.

As soon as Tommy tilted forwards and started down, he realized that this was a very, very bad idea. The sun had begun to set and visibility was poor enough that the icy ridge and bumps he often tripped over would be near-invisible. The monochrome white slopes began to slide and spin of their own accord, and Tommy’s pounding head decided that this was not the day to be dealing with this.

Up ahead of him, Phil rounded the bend, expecting Tommy to be keeping up fine like yesterday. However, the blond in question, still trailing along on the first few hundred feet of the trail, was lagging behind, turns haphazard and disorganized. His vision blurred, sky became snow and trees became clouds, and he felt himself tilt over and begin sliding. There was a white-hot burst of pain in the back of his head, his left side, and then black.

When Tommy blinked his eyes open again, he was flat on his back, face-up in the middle of the forest, presumably to one of the sides of the trail. 

“Fuck,” he slurred, but the only ears around to hear it were his.

A glance to either side of him revealed the trail and his gloves nowhere to be found, one ski lying several feet away, and cold and impersonal pines growing all around him. As he sat there, the situation began to sink in. His headache was just as bad, if not worse, and he just wanted to go home. Against his will, tears began to well in his eyes and a lump began to form in his throat.

The gods looked down on him, gazed upon his situation, and decided that he wasn’t suffering nearly enough. It began to snow. The tears fell faster, crystalline droplets disrupting the pale fog that was his breath.

Tommy’s fever-addled brain, having been contemplating the typical solution of waiting where he was and hoping for somebody to come find him, began to realize that staying here wasn’t an option anymore. Kristen’s warnings of old snowboarding friends and their hypothermia scares swam back into his mind, and his heart sank down into his stomach and jumped into his throat. It was getting darker, and if he wasn’t off this mountain by sunset, he might not make it out at all. The dim lighting around him reflected off the snow-turned-ice, shadows twisting into towering ghouls and slithering serpents writhing around him.

Tommy wiped his freezing nose, exhaling harshly. Now was not the time for delirium or hallucinations; it would take every bit of strength left in him to get the fuck out of the woods and down the trail. Heaving himself up, he stumbled the short distance to his stray ski. His unnervingly numb fingers fumbled the edge and it took him several tries to actually flip it over and try to attach it to his boot. 

As he pressed down, his knees decided that they weren’t going to cooperate with him and buckled. The task took him another three minutes of wasted daylight, but he didn’t think going faster would’ve been a possibility; it was like clenching his fist in the morning- no matter how hard he wanted to do it, his body refused to listen.

Dizzy with cold, exhaustion, and pain, he peered down the hill. The trees were closely packed together, but the snow seemed flat and the slope was mercifully gentle. Gulping, he began to ski forwards.

For a few minutes, it seemed like Tommy was going to make it to the bottom of the mountain alright, if a bit feverish and frozen at the same time. Then, the vestiges of his luck ran out. He slid to a stop at the top of a ridge, the steep slope covered thinly with ice and underlying rock face exposed in various patches. His only option now would be to ski left or right until he could go down again, hoping that he would end up somewhere near his intended destination.

Shuffling in place, he distantly recalled that the trail they’d been on was located on the far right of the area, so skiing left would probably be his best bet. Miserably wiping his runny nose again, he started off to his left.

As he turned, he realized that he’d let go of his pole at one point, and it was dangling uselessly from his wrist. Attempting to grip the handle again, he realized his fingers weren’t responding as quickly as they should. Fear swiped away the fog, if only for a moment, and he stopped in his tracks as he clumsily shoved his goggles onto his helmet. the dying sun illuminated his sight, and his fingernails were pale and his skin was just on the wrong side of white. Desperately shoving them in his coat, he gasped at just how cold they were. His fingertips stung and tears pricked at his eyes. He dedicated a few more minutes to warming his hands before tentatively removing them and sliding forward once again, nervously eyeing the darkening sky.

He managed several more feet before his right ski hit upon a rocky patch of ice and it slipped out from under him. Unable to regain his balance, he toppled over, sliding down the slope feet-first, hands scrabbling on the smooth snow in a futile search for purchase. Luckily, he was stopped, but it was unfortunately by a tree that slammed into his bruised side. Crying out in pain, he curled into a ball, somehow with both skis still attached and pole straps looped around his wrist.

He knew he had to get up and try and find the trails, but his head and side were throbbing in unison and his vision was vignetting like a bad 2000s profile picture. The pain and cold were too much, and Tommy’s body relaxed of its own accord as he passed out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would apologize, but these sentences are my bastard children and I do not regret it :)

**Author's Note:**

> I KNOW ENDING ON GOING TO BED IS BASIC IT WAS A GOOD STOPPING POINT 😭😭😭
> 
> Updates should be every two days? The last two chapters might take longer, we’ll see :PPP
> 
> If you catch any typos, please tell me! I also take constructive criticism, emphasis on constructive. Remember telling someone their writing is shit ain’t constructive- I trust y’all tho!
> 
> Next chapter’s shorter, but far angstier. Be fearful! Thank you for reading ! 💕💕


End file.
